“They are,” said she.
“And—and—” said he, and came to a stop. But after a few moments he remarked: “I reckon I’ve talked enough for politeness, and now we’ll tackle business. Have you any brains to sell?”
“That depends on what you want,” said she. “If you are after king’s brains, or soldier’s brains, or schoolmaster’s brains, I do not keep them.”
“Mercy, no!” he exclaimed, “I’m not after such as that, but just ordinary brains—fit for any simple fellow—the same as every one has about here—something plain and common-like, and only a bottle full.”
“Very well,” said the wise woman, “I might manage it if so be you’ll help yourself.”
“What would you have me do?” he asked.
She looked into the pot before replying, and then said, “Bring me the heart of the thing you like best, and I’ll tell you where to get your bottle of brains.”
“But how can I do that?” he questioned anxiously.
“That’s not for me to say,” she answered. “Find out for yourself, my lad, if you do not want to live to be a simpleton all your days. Now I must attend to other matters; so good evening to you,” and she bowed him out and shut the door.
Off went the lad to his mother and told her what the wise woman had said; “and I reckon I’ll have to kill our pig,” he added, “for I like fat pork better than anything else.”